


Just Like That

by IncandescentAntelope



Series: Chubby Yuuri Week 2019 [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Belly Kink, Body Worship, Canon Compliant, Chubby Katsuki Yuuri, Eros Katsuki Yuuri, Glove Kink, Hand Jobs, M/M, Pining Victor Nikiforov, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Public Sex, Rimming, Smut, Vitya eats ass like groceries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-08
Updated: 2019-09-08
Packaged: 2020-10-11 08:08:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20542871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IncandescentAntelope/pseuds/IncandescentAntelope
Summary: Yuuri completes the Eros routine perfectly for the first time in preparation for the Onsen on Ice competition. Viktor is thoroughly seduced.





	Just Like That

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for Day 1 of Chubby Yuuri Week! The prompt is Confidence <3

The echo of the strings faded as Yuuri struck the final pose of his Eros routine, his arms wrapped around himself tightly, his lingering gaze cast over his shoulder. Thoughts of katsudon faded from his mind as the facade melted away, and all that was left was Yuuri; he uncoiled himself from the posture and took a few gasping breaths, his thighs quaking with the aftershock of such a demanding skate. 

He had nearly lost track of his direction on the ice, now facing the south wall instead of the north, where Viktor had been observing. He wiped his forehead on his sleeve and dug in his pick, turning quickly to face his coach. He had finally done it, he had finally completed the skate in its entirety. While the anxious mass of dark, clawing thoughts shrieked that he had just _barely_ completed enough rotations for the salchow, Viktor’s expression wiped every ounce of worry from his face. 

Viktor was waiting, leaned against the barrier, his silly puffy coat tied around his waist like always, but there was a notable difference in his posture from the practiced grace of _Viktor Nikiforov_, golden god of the skating world. Viktor was raking a gloved hand through his hair, the other gripping tight at the upper lip of the barrier. His cheeks had flushed bright red and his chest was heaving. 

He looked like he had been the one skating just now, not Yuuri. 

“Viktor! Did I… did I do a good job?” Yuuri asked, slowly gliding across the ice to where his coach was waiting. He scanned the bleachers for Yurio, who had been sitting there not two minutes ago, waiting for his turn on the ice to practice Agape. 

Viktor simply nodded in reply, his silver hair ruffling as he moved. Again, that usual grace escaped him. Viktor's movements were jerky and clumsy, like a poorly-controlled marionette. As Yuuri drew closer he could hear the slight rattle of his breaths, could see the shuddering rhythm of his chest. 

“I… are you okay? Viktor, are you not feeling well?” Yuuri asked, starting to feel panic rise in his chest again. If Viktor wasn’t well, he needed to get off the ice, the chill in the air wreaks havoc on the sick body. (A fact Yuuri knew all too well, but that’s a story for a different time.) “Here, I have a fever reducer in my bag, let me just go--”

“No, Yuuri, I’m okay,” Viktor interrupted, wrapping his long, gloved fingers around his wrist. “I feel fine. It’s just… _bozhe moy_, you skated it so well.” Yuuri felt the quiver in Viktor’s grip as he returned to face him, pulling his arm from that shuddering grasp. 

“Thank you, Viktor,” Yuuri said, his voice coming out much more hurried and breathless than he had anticipated. “I, ah, I think I under rotated the sal, but I got the combination! And my step sequence…” he trailed off as Viktor’s eyes burned into him, an expression that he couldn’t quite read. It looked like anger, but something… _deeper_ smoldered beneath it. Yuuri bit his tongue to cut off his brainless yammering, assuming Viktor had meant for him to stop talking, to stop bragging. 

Maybe it was resentment. 

“Yes, your step sequence was flawless, Yuuri.” Viktor replied, his voice sounding harsh and choppy, his native Russian dipping in with sharpened w’s and hissed s’s. It sent a chill down Yuuri’s spine, like it always did. “Your combination was excellent. The salchow was good, but it could use a bit more refining.”

This was high praise for Yuuri, having heard very little of it in the past few weeks as the three of them prepared for the Onsen on Ice competition. Yurio was all bark with little bite, but the words themselves snapped at Yuuri’s self esteem angrily. 

Nothing wore down Yuuri’s confidence better than his own mind, his own doubt, though, and often he found himself angrily berating his own performances even before Viktor got a word in. His coach often leaned wordlessly against the barrier, a finger pressed to his lips, like always. 

“You think so?” Yuuri asked, flushing with more than just the exertion of skating the program. It was the praise; it was a healing balm on his skin that seemed to seep into his very core. He moved to lean against the barrier beside Viktor, reaching for his water bottle as the exhaustion of the skate began to catch up with him. “I… I’m proud of it, there are, um, definitely spots that I can improve, but…” The sweat running down the nape of his neck distracted him for a moment and he set the bottle back down. One hand firmly on the barrier, he reached back to swipe it away; the moment he moved, the spandex of his athletic shirt slipped up, revealing a sliver of his chubby stomach to the frigid air of the rink. 

Yuuri shivered and immediately moved to pull it back down, more than a little embarrassed by the wardrobe malfunction, especially in front of Viktor, his coach, his idol… and Yuuri hesitated to call him his crush, though the years of adoration and the posters recently removed from his bedroom walls would attest differently. 

Yuuri grumbled gently as he gripped the hem of his shirt and tugged it back down, but the damage had already been done. It was bad enough that Viktor saw him in the onsen, his round off-season belly still stubbornly clinging to his body despite his every attempt to work it off. But Viktor had seen it now, after a skate. He had seen the results of Yuuri’s lack of control, his low self-esteem that always manifested in overeating and indulging in comfort food.

“I’m… I know, I’m sorry, I’m trying really hard, Viktor, I promise--” Yuuri began, but that fiery expression on Viktor’s sculpted features only grew, fanned by, no, accelerated with gasoline by the sight of Yuuri’s pudgy belly. 

Viktor turned sharply to the side, bracketing Yuuri’s skated feet with his own and gripping at the lower hem of his shirt. Yuuri yelped and froze in place, expecting another castigation for his weight, like he so often got from Yurio in the locker room. 

“Your belly, Yuuri…” Viktor said quietly, his voice still dark and husky with his accent. 

Yuuri squeaked, the world beyond Viktor’s face and body blurry without his glasses. “I know, it’s--” Viktor pressed a gloved finger to his lips, effectively silencing him. 

“It’s beautiful.” 

Yuuri swore he heard condensation drip from the ceiling. A pen drop in the office behind the glass. A single footstep on the concrete stairs outside the arena.

_“H-hai?”_ Yuuri asked, utterly shocked by Viktor’s use of adjectives. It had to be another mind game, right? Like all the times he asked him about dancing, or champagne. He was teasing him. He knew it. “I don’t… you’re just messing with me, aren’t you?” 

Viktor’s eyes scorched through Yuuri then, the crystalline blue almost completely swallowed up by black pupil. “Absolutely not.” Viktor whispered, a pang of something heady sweeping through Yuuri’s core. “I wouldn’t lie about this.” Yuuri, still barely understanding what exactly Viktor meant, remained silent. Maybe if he didn’t say anything, Viktor would explain himself. 

“May I?” Viktor asked, in that same accented tone. “I’d like to see you.”

Yuuri swallowed thickly and nodded, unsure of what kind of game they were playing. He had just finished skating, and his shirt was beginning to stick to him in all the usual places, but the thought of Viktor peeling off his clothes was simultaneously so completely embarrassing and exciting at the same time that he didn’t protest. How could he?

Viktor’s thumbs and forefingers pulled at the navy blue material, tugging it up over Yuuri’s plush hips and left it bunched up around his ribs, exposing his belly and lower back to the chill of the room. He tried not to flinch as Viktor instructed him to hold the shirt up, a soft, muttered thing that nearly made Yuuri squeak again. 

“Keep this up for me, would you, Yuuri?” he asked, his voice rumbly and deep in his chest. He nodded and grasped at the bunched-up hem with a gloved hand. “Perfect, just like that.” 

Again, the praise sent a warm chill down his spine. Just four simple words nearly made Yuuri crumple to the ice. But the praise was absolutely nothing compared to what Viktor did next, which was to slowly drop to his knees on the ice, bringing himself nearly eye-level with his belly.

“V-Viktor, what are you…” Yuuri questioned, squirming under the attention as his coach brought two gloved hands up to his stomach. The first kiss of warm leather against his skin set his nerve endings alight. He expected some kind of pinching or teasing, the way Viktor often did with his cheeks after he’d had a few too many cups of sake, but… 

His hands were gentle, the touch was almost barely there. “I’m in awe of your body, Yuuri… how it clings so desperately to this sweet little bit of you and refuses to give up.” Viktor said, a fingertip trailing along the divot of his belly button. “You skated the program so well, just like you did in the video.”

Yuuri’s ears perked up at that. “The video?” he asked, “The… the one of me skating Stammi Vicino?” Viktor nodded, almost like he wasn’t truly listening, those cerulean eyes dancing over Yuuri’s belly instead. 

_“Da,”_ he replied, the Russian word tangling up Yuuri’s tongue in questions. “That video. I loved watching it… the way your body moved in the video, the way you called out for me… and how effortlessly beautiful your body is in the video… and now as well.” Viktor rambled, his voice hushed and reverent. 

“God, Viktor, you’re embarrassing… I was so overweight in that video…” Yuuri protests, his breaths coming harsher as Viktor leaned closer to his exposed stomach. “I’m… well, I’m in _better_ shape now, but I’m not back to--”

“Yuuri, why do you think I came here?” Viktor asked, turning his attention back to Yuuri’s face from his belly, and Yuuri couldn’t decide which was worse. Viktor’s scrutiny staring him in the face or his uncomfortably close attention to his stomach. “Why is it that your video caught my eye?”

“I… I really don’t know, Viktor. You’re at the height of your career, you’re a five-time world champion, a living legend, and you’re here… coaching a nobody like me, trying to get a _piggy in ice skates_ to perfect a triple axel,” Yuuri repeated the cruel words Yurio had spat at him the previous practice, “and you’re… staring at my flabby stomach. I don’t know why, Viktor. None of this makes sense to me.” 

Viktor eyed him carefully, something guarded falling over his features. Something… difficult to understand. “It’s because I’m interested in you, Yuuri.” Viktor answered, standing slowly, groaning slightly with the movement. “You’re… an enigma. Katsuki Yuuri is a paradox and a half and I need to know more.” Yuuri furrowed his brow as Viktor stood back to his full height, still just as close to his body as ever. “Yuuri pulls me in with his body and pushes me away with his words, and then skates the program I created for him and seduces me so thoroughly… but still can’t see that I’m simply _begging_ him to touch me.”

Yuuri’s eyes blew wide. “You’re what?!” he squeaked, backing up against the barrier again. This had to be a dream, there was no way Viktor Nikiforov just said that. No. If he blinked hard enough or thought about waking up, he would. He had to be asleep, there was no possible way that Viktor just-

“I want you, Yuuri.” Viktor said, making his point perfectly clear. “Can’t you tell?” he asked, nodding down to the _very_ noticeable bulge in his sweatpants. “Yuuri, I’ve wanted you since…” he trailed off, catching his tongue on something sharp that Yuuri couldn’t see. “I’ve wanted you for so long. Why else do you think you’re skating Eros?”

Yuuri can’t quite summon an answer for Viktor, _the_ Viktor, the man who had captured his attention and affection so singularly all those years ago. _That Viktor_, had just admitted to giving Yuuri a program in order to seduce him. Not only that but _that Viktor_ wanted Yuuri. In a way that Yuuri had also wanted Viktor for so many years. How many times had his posters been privy to his masturbatory fantasies of moments just like this? Of being caught in an empty arena with Viktor, pressed against the barrier by Viktor, just-finished-a-skate Viktor, “let’s go find a closet, Viktor”.

_“Kuso…”_ Yuuri mumbled, trying to bring any word to mind to answer Viktor, but all that came to mind was “Yes.” 

“Y-yes? Yes, what, Yuuri?” Viktor asked, looking particularly wild-eyed then, and Yuuri understood. The look in his eye wasn’t anger or resentment (as he so often feared it was). It was arousal. Viktor was turned on. By Yuuri and his skating. 

“Yes, I want you.” Yuuri heard himself saying, “I’ve wanted you for so long, too, Viktor. I--” once again, Viktor cut him off, but this time, in one of the best ways Yuuri can imagine. By pressing his lips to Yuuri’s in a breathless, hurried kiss. “V-Viiiktor…” Yuuri mumbled against his lips, and oh god, his lips were soft, as Viktor’s hands tangled in his hair, as the line of something hard pressed against his squishy belly. 

“Yuuuuuuri…” Viktor moaned in reply, the sound of it in harmony to Yuuri’s own gasping breaths and the dull roar of the air conditioning. “God Yuuri, I’ve wanted to kiss you for so long,” he said, making Yuuri dizzy. 

“O-oh? What else have you… w-wanted to do?” Yuuri asked in a burst of confidence that only Viktor’s kiss, Viktor’s touch, Viktor’s body pressed against his, could supply. 

“Blyad, I’ve wanted to feel you like this, all warm and tired out from such a sexy program,” Viktor gasped, rutting against Yuuri’s hip and lower belly, “I’ve wanted to touch you, and kiss you, get tangled up in you, Yuuri.” Viktor’s breaths began coming harsher, his accent more pronounced and gravelly as their rendezvous continued. 

Yuuri can feel himself beginning to harden in his pants, especially with the heat of Viktor’s body around him, and the press of his lips migrating from his mouth to his cheek, along his jaw and to that spot just below his earlobe. “Y-you think I’m sexy?” Yuuri asked, biting his lip against the urge to moan at the way Viktor’s lips so expertly tease his sensitive, sweat-slick skin. 

“_God_, yes, Yuuri. You have all of me enraptured every time you skate. It’s incredible, Yuuri, I can’t tell you how many times I’ve touched myself after your practices, trying to imagine what you taste like here, what you sound like when I touch you…” 

“Th-then touch me, Viktor.” Yuuri said, feeling his cheeks bloom with heat at the way Viktor moaned against his throat, his hands immediately finding the hem of his sweatpants and dipping inside. “Ahhh, V-Viktor…” Yuuri moaned as Viktor’s gloved hand found his length, twitching and hot between their bodies. “Your g-glove~” 

“Oh, I’m sorry, hang on, I’ll--” Viktor began to withdraw but Yuuri wrapped his hand around his wrist, like Viktor had done just now. “Yuuri?”

“N-no, leave it…” Yuuri moaned, rutting up into Viktor’s hand. “I like h-how it feeeeels,” his voice broke around another moan and Viktor swore in a heated flurry of Russian at the words. “‘S so soft…” Viktor wrapped his hand around Yuuri’s cock and stroked once before sliding down to cup his balls, gently teasing the skin between them and his hole; Yuuri arched up into the touch with a gasping, high-pitched moan of Viktor’s name. 

“Soft, just like you, Yuuuuu-ri.” Viktor moaned, rolling his hips again and again as he explored the heat between Yuuri’s legs, finally trailing his fingers along the length of his cock, now fully hard and twitching in his sweatpants. At this point it was too far beyond them both to remember where they were, and what they were risking, but finally feeling each other’s hands against skin, being close enough to taste each other’s toothpaste, it didn’t matter that the fluorescents above them hummed like cicadas. 

“Viktor, Viktor, _god, yes there!_” Yuuri moaned as Viktor’s fist wrapped tightly around his cock, milking precome from the tip in wet beads that slid down his shaft and soaked into the black leather of Viktor’s glove. Yuuri’s thigh quivered as pleasure rolled over him as the one man he had fantasized for years stroked his cock and moaned his name in his ear. 

“Yuuri, you were beautiful on the ice,” Viktor moaned, soft, gasped Russian falling out of his mouth between English phrases like the sun darting out through the clouds. “Your body, it’s so perfect, so soft and receptive to my touch, and the way you perform Eros, god, Yuuri, it drives me insane--” his voice grew even more hurried, more frenzied and desperate in time with his strokes of Yuuri’s cock and the thrusting of his hips where he was grinding against Yuuri’s plush thigh. “I’m, _fuck_, Yuuri, I’m close...” 

Yuuri’s eyes shot open at the perfect moment, Viktor’s cheeks and nose painted with a splotchy blush, his mouth half-open and his lips bitten red. His were eyelids half-closed, his eyes had rolled back with pleasure, and yet his other hand was still firmly grasping the barrier. He wasn’t even touching himself, and yet he was so desperately turned on that he was going to--

“_Sh-shit, Yuuuuri, I’m coming!”_ Viktor shouted in Russian, and even though Yuuri didn’t know the translation, he could guess what it meant from the sudden burst of wetness against his thigh and the violent jerking of Viktor’s body that followed. It was incredible to watch, and Yuuri’s own orgasm receded over the horizon in favor of watching Viktor’s features melt with the blissful emptiness of sex. He marveled at the flush that bled down his cheeks and the column of his throat. 

Neither of them moved for a moment, lest the spell break, their quiet moment together in the thick cloud of heat and arousal shimmering around them might evaporate like dew. But it was Viktor to speak first, a long, shuddering sigh as he removed his hand from inside Yuuri’s sweats. 

“I… I’m sorry, Yuuri… that was, I don’t--” 

Yuuri pressed a gloved finger to Viktor’s lips. “Please don’t apologize for that.” he said simply, drinking in the hazy, bleary way Viktor smiled down at him. “How long have you been waiting to do that, Viktor?” Yuuri laughed softly, nodding down to Viktor’s hand, now caressing his still-bare stomach. 

“Oh, Yuuri, far too long.” Viktor said, his voice somehow even gruffer, even more Russian than it had been before. “I… oh, god…” he began, cutting himself off at the realization that he had indeed, finished in his pants. “I guess we need to hit the showers, hm?” he laughed humorlessly, reaching for his guards and handing Yuuri his too.

“You might, but I think I’m going to take a few more laps.” Yuuri said with a laugh as his erection flagged. It wouldn’t be the first time he hadn’t come, his stamina sometimes outpaced his grip strength, awkward angles for touching himself often cut his sessions short when his wrist began to cramp up. “Just need a cool-down.”

“You’re going to skate after that?” Viktor questioned, staring at him like he had grown a second head. “You… Yuuri, did you not finish?”

Yuuri laughed and shrugged. “No, I, ah, I didn’t. But it’s not a big deal! Don’t worry about it,” he said, waving his hands frantically as Viktor turned around to face him. “I don’t always… y’know. Sometimes I just _don’t._” 

Viktor’s eyebrows shot up in absolute horror and he grabbed for Yuuri’s hands. “What? Why? Who has been mistreating you in such a way, Yuuri?” Viktor demands, the intensity in his eyes burning right to Yuuri’s core. “Who isn’t letting you come?” Yuuri couldn’t help but answer truthfully. 

“Oh, I… no one has been _mistreating_ me,” he replied, blushing furiously. “Sometimes it just takes a while.” One specific memory comes to mind, of an entire night spent watching clips of Viktor (the man currently standing in the chill of Ice Castle with come drying on the inside of his pants) skating and taking interviews. Yuuri finished a grand total of twice in six hours that night. 

“Yuuuuuuuri…” Viktor purred, rolling the ‘uu’ on his tongue in the way that made Yuuri moan. “I can’t let you go now.” he said, drawing closer and cupping Yuuri’s chin in his hand. “May I make you feel good, Yuuri?”

Yuuri swallowed thickly and nodded slowly, ready to follow Viktor into the locker room, so he could at least shower up first, but Viktor instead guided him back to the barrier, and twirled his finger in the air slowly, silently instructing him to turn around. Yuuri did as he was told and faced the ice again, a sheer surface marked by the trailing, looping scars his skates left behind. 

“Yuuri, have you ever been… _savored_, like the delicious treat that you are?” Viktor crooned from behind him, his voice like warm caramel in his ears. While Viktor’s meaning was easy to guess after the fact, it took Yuuri a moment to understand where he was going. 

“No, I… I don’t think so,” Yuuri answered, not quite ready to give up that he had lost his virginity to Phichit their sophomore year of college and had only been with one other person between then and now, just a Tinder hookup with a girl whose name he didn’t remember. “Why?”

“Well, Yuuri, you said that sometimes-” Viktor groaned softly and the shuffle of clothing caught Yuuri’s ear. “Sometimes it takes time. And that’s exactly what I intend to do. _Take my time._” Yuuri turned in his place just as Viktor’s gloved fingers found his waistband again, gently sliding them down over his ass.

“Ohhh, wait, V-V-Viktor, I’m… s-so dirty back there, you don’t need to--” Yuuri began to protest, horrified that he hadn’t gotten a chance to clean up first, as it was now very evident where Viktor was going. 

“Hush, Yuuri.” Viktor chuckled, digging his hands into the squishy, plush cheeks of Yuuri’s ass. “You’re fine. And so adorably pink...” Viktor said from behind him, and Yuuri felt the heat of his breath before he felt the wet of his tongue, but the moment he did, he let out a long, keening whine. 

“Viiiiiktor…” It was unlike anything he had ever felt before; the warm, the wet, the soft puff of Viktor’s breath against his skin… “Oh g-god, Viktor, ‘m s-so sensitive~” he moaned, gripping the barrier for dear life as Viktor lapped at his hole. He and Phichit never got anywhere _near_ this level of intimate, only ever sucking each other off in the shower or working out a frustration fuck if they needed to. But this, oh, god, Yuuri was going to fall apart. And soon. Whatever Yuuri’s past lives had done to deserve this, he thanked them for it. 

His gloves still on, Viktor’s touch felt warm and simmering, the leather now warmed from the heat of his hands, but it was… distant. Yuuri wanted to feel him. “V-Viktor, can you… the gloves? I w-want to feel your ha-hands.”

“Of course, Yuuri." Viktor mumbled, pulling his gloves off and tossing them god knows where. He immediately buried his hands in the squish of his ass again and planted his mouth firmly around Yuuri's hole again. "Mmmmph, god, Yuuri, you little minx,” Viktor mumbled between Yuuri’s cheeks, pulling away from teasing his hole, “Licking your lips at me like that during the skate, you’ll kill me yet.”

Yuuri keened at the praise and moaned loudly enough to echo across the ice. Licking his lips had been a last second addition to the routine, after Viktor had insisted Yuuri try to seduce him with all he had. "V-Viktor, more, please more~" he begged breathlessly, arching his back to push his hips out. This pressed his belly harder into the barrier, but he was far past caring. Viktor was eating his ass like it was a gourmet dessert and damn it all if Yuuri was going to let his tummy get in the way of that. 

"Your stomach is beautiful, I love watching it peek out of your shirts while you skate," Viktor moaned, digging his hands into Yuuri's cheeks. "I hate that you have to work it off for the regular season. Fuck, it's s-so hard not to stare when we're in the onsen, Yuuri…" Viktor mumbled, his voice muffled by flesh. Yuuri's cock began to twitch again, standing up quickly as his arousal pitched higher and higher. 

“I love cuddling with you, Yuuri,” Viktor continued, reaching around to Yuuri’s front and wrapping his hand around Yuuri’s cock again. “A-and when you let me nap in your lap last week, _mmmmmnnhhhh~_ h-heavenly…” Yuuri remembered how insistent Viktor had been about resting in his lap to encourage coach-student bonding after dinner, and how quickly he had then fallen asleep. But that moment flew away out of the back of his mind as Viktor flicked his wrist over his cock; Yuuri sobbed out a moan of Viktor’s name and bucked into his fist, then rocked back over his mouth, alternating between the two maddening pleasures threatening to overwhelm him. 

“V-Viktor, please,” Yuuri moaned wetly, feeling the hot pool of arousal building behind his navel again. “I’m, oh god, I’m s-so close~” 

Viktor’s tongue pressed in fully then, completely sheathing itself in Yuuri’s body. The intrusion was so different and new and so _goddamn_ incredible that Yuuri could barely hold himself up; his thighs began to quake again. 

“You’re so. Fucking. Sexy~” Viktor moaned against his hole, fucking him in earnest with his tongue between his words, but Yuuri barely heard it over his own sharp, keening cries of Viktor’s name, punctuated by the word “yes” in the three languages he could speak. “That’s it, Yuuri, take your pleasure, _zolotse_.”

Yuuri buried his face in his elbow, folded over the barrier and _screamed_ as he came, spend spurting over Viktor’s hand and fingers, a splash landing on the fiberglass wall in front of him. Yuuri gasped for breath as the aftershocks rolled through him, shaking him to his core. When he came back to himself, Viktor had pulled away from his eager licking and sucking and shimmied his athletic pants back up over his ass, his come-smeared hand wiped off on his pants. 

“Are you okay, Yuuri?” Viktor asked, his voice quiet and reassuring, his hand warm in the small of his back. “That sounded a bit intense…” 

Yuuri nodded weakly, taking a few more deep breaths before standing upright. “Y-yeah, ‘m okay, it was just… a lot.” he answered truthfully and smoothed his shirt back down into place. 

Viktor’s eyes stuck on his belly, refusing to look away in a way that made Yuuri squirm slightly. “Yuuri, can I see your stomach again?” he asked, cocking his head to the side as he looked up at Yuuri from his posture on the ground. Yuuri obliged, though blushing brightly. “Oh… oh, Yuuri.” Viktor breathed, and Yuuri’s eyes widened. 

“What? Is it…” he trailed off, looking down to see the dark red line running across his midsection, where he had been pressed against the barrier. “Oh, that’s… don’t worry about that.” Yuuri said, laughing softly, but Viktor shook his head. 

“No, no, that’s… I did that, didn’t I?” he asked, eyeing him carefully. Yuuri shook his head softly. It was only marked like that because he had clung to the half-wall so tightly. “You’re sure? I’d hate to know I hurt you, Yuuri.”

“I really don’t mind, Vi-hiiiktor…” Yuuri gasped as Viktor surged forward and began kissing his pudgy middle, peppering gentle kisses along that long, red mark. “You d-don’t need to do that,” Yuuri said, letting his protest die in his mouth as Viktor laid a final kiss over his belly button. 

“Hush, Yuuri,” Viktor smiled up at him, “Let me apologize. I was starting to worry you’d lose this tummy before I got the chance to kiss it.” Yuuri snorted a laugh and helped Viktor to his feet, electing not to tease him for the grumpy old man noises he made, and the way his joints creaked when he stood. “I think we both could use a shower, da?” he laughed, offering his hand to Yuuri as they walked toward the locker room.

“Mhmm. Good idea, coach.” Yuuri mumbled, swaying on his feet, still laced into his skates. “Where's Yurio?" he asked, realizing he hadn't seen the younger skater since he began his routine. 

"I gave him the rest of the day off." Viktor said, "As soon as you licked your lips at me I knew he wouldn't want to be around to watch the fallout." Yuuri laughed tiredly and blushed down to his bones. “Did you bring something along to change into?” Viktor asked as they walked toward the locker room, and Yuuri nodded. 

“Yes,” he answered, glad he had remembered to leave a pair of underwear and sweats in his locker. “I have something.” They walked together silently and Viktor insisted on opening the door. Warm light spilled into the dimly-lit hallway and Yuuri stepped forward into the locker room. “God, what a mess…” Yuuri laughed dryly as he sat on one of the low benches, deskating quickly to get out of his soiled track pants. He’d need to do laundry as soon as he got home...

Viktor chuckled and bent at the waist, kissing Yuuri’s forehead before pulling off his own skates. “I am too. Can I shower with you?” he asked, his voice still a bit hoarse from their romp. 

“_Hai_, I’d like that a lot, Viktor.” Yuuri smiled, tipping his chin up and pressing a gentle, chaste kiss to his lips.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Drop a kudos if you did, and a comment too, if you'd like! 
> 
> I'll be posting a fic for every day of this week that I'm moderating with Fuzzy! Give us a follow on the official [Tumblr ](https://chubbyyuuriweek.tumblr.com)and [Twitter](https://twitter.com/chubbyyuuriweek)!
> 
> See you lovely squish aficionados and chub lovers tomorrow!  
❤️ IA ❤️  
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